


The Darkest Day, The Hardest Goodbye

by NaughtySammyBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha!Dean, Angst, Death, F/M, Graphic Description, I'm sooo sorry, Violence, omega!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:11:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtySammyBoy/pseuds/NaughtySammyBoy
Summary: Dean is put before the town for his crimes





	The Darkest Day, The Hardest Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is dark af. Again, sorry.

Thunder claps angrily in the distance, signaling the comings of a great and mighty storm. The air is humid, suffocating and thick, the kind that clings to your skin and turns everything in its path slick. The town square hums with murmurs as the villagers gather; some are excited, it’s been years since the last one. Some stand apprehensive, feeling guilty but grateful it’s not them or their own families.

The crowd watches, breath bated, as the guards bring you and your children forth in a single file line, all chained at the ankles and wrists. Thomas, your oldest, growls behind you as the guard tugs him forward, his forest green eyes flashing golden yellow as he grows angrier, his claws digging so painfully into his palms as he tries to reign in it. He watches you the entire time, being shoved and guided by a guard who only sees you as some submissive Omega, and the need to protect needles up his back and pricks at his scalp. He’s the head Alpha of the family now, he knows that, and it makes him sick to his stomach.

Sebastian, the second oldest, follows behind Thomas, trying his best to will away the stringing tears. _Alphas don’t cry_ , he tells himself, _Alphas are strong and stubborn_. He looks back over his shoulder at his little brother and sister, too young to understand what’s going on. Too young to know why there are shackles around their hands and around their feet. They look back at him with wide, wet eyes, calling his name, calling for mama.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian says, hoping to give some kind of comfort, “You’re okay.”

He nearly barrels into Thomas’ back when they all come to a screeching halt. Thomas roars when the guards turn them on their feet and force them all down to their knees on the cobble-stone street, in front of the short platform where everything will take place. Sebastian watches in horror as their chains are looped through rusted shackle mounts, holding them in place as if _they_ were the prisoners.

“My babies,” you cry as you look down the line at your youngest children who are sobbing in fear. “Can I at least hold my babies?”

“It’s okay, mama,” Sebastian says when a guard declines with a growl of disgust, his throat feeling so thick. “I’ll make sure they don’t watch,” he assures you, “They’re okay.”

You give him a watery smile as you nod, so sad in manner that his heart wrenches in his chest. “My sweet Sebastian,” you whisper, “Always my gentle Alpha.”

Thomas turns his head to look at you. “And Thomas,” you say, leaning in as he does until your foreheads touch, something you’ve done ever since he was just a pup. “My strong boy,” you manage through a sob, moving until your face is buried in his neck.

The crowd comes alive when the second song of shackles comes, another set of guards bringing him forth. Your Dean. _Your Alpha_. His eyes find yours immediately, a sad smile gracing his face as he nods just once, trying to reassure you that everything will be okay.

“Alpha,” you cry meekly, a series of sobs overtaking your already shaken body as your two youngest children call out helplessly for their daddy, their tiny, shackled hands reaching out towards where he stands in the strong hands of uncaring guards.

“Dean Winchester,” the judge, dressed in a black ceremonial robe, calls out in a booming voice, “You are presented before the town for your thievery; for taking money from those who you were meant to serve as a part of this town’s council, for taking money from the innocent townspeople who trusted you. As punishment for your crimes, the jury has declared you be put to death by public beating.” He turns towards Dean. “Do you accept this ruling, Mister Winchester?”

Eerie silence settles over the square in the wake of the question. There’s no murmurs, not even a gust of wind. The air tastes like injustice, like betrayal.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dean finally says, voice sharp and sure.

“Dean, no! Alpha! Please _don’t!_ ” You scream as the guards truss him up and roughly tear at his clothes to strip his naked, leaving him bared and exposed and made to look weak before the village of people that surround him.

“Shut up, bitch,” a guard snarls behind you before stepping forward and grabbing around the back of your neck.

“You get your goddamn hands off her or I’ll rip your fucking throat out,” Thomas threatens, eyes like fire as he stares down the guard, his incisors sharpening behind his lips and gnashing as a loud growl rumbles from his chest.

The Beta guard backs down, suddenly fearful of the promise in Thomas’ voice. He won’t be in chains forever, and if there’s one thing the town knows about Winchester men—it’s that their word is their bond. No matter what.

Sebastian is quick to gather up his baby brother and sister in his arms as much as his shackles that bind him will allow. He sings a lullaby, one of their favorites, to drown out the sudden spike in the crowd’s excitement. Some scream traitor, while other shout such vile insults, targeted not only at Dean, but at his family as well. Sebastian swallows down the instinctive Alpha anger that burns like hot embers inside him, softly shooshing the cries of his small siblings and singing in a raspy, tear-thick voice.

The guards on stage, the ones that loom over a stone-faced Dean like death, grab their whips, the tails long and adorned with jagged shards of glass.

The cobble under your knees digs painfully at your skin beneath your billowing skirt, scraping you bloody as you tremble and fight against the shackles. A blood curdling scream rips past your lips when the guards raise their hands and strike down upon Dean’s bare flesh, leaving behind angry trails that bleed dark red against the pale of his skin. He doesn’t shout out, doesn’t give anyone the satisfaction of hearing his pain, and that only breaks you _more_.

The whips and their lashes ring out like a symphony of agony and sorrow, glass cutting and dragging into skin, bringing with it rivets of crimson that flood the ground beneath Dean’s feet. Rain begins to fall in heavy sheets, thunder clapping loud and lightening striking across the dark, wrathy sky. It leaves everything in its path drenched, washing away the blood that flows from the serrated state of Dean’s attacked body.

He’s long since given up on standing, his arms extended painfully above him as the weight of his body drags him down, the shackles around his wrists that hold him up leaving marks that are no match to the hundreds that cover his unclothed form. A grunt of pain sticks in his throat as the guards release him from his confines, carelessly letting him fall to the stage below him in a heap of blood and flesh and nearby death.

“Release the family,” the judge commands the guards keeping watch over you and your children.

Once freed, you dash towards where Dean lays almost lifeless, ignoring the protests of the guards and their hands reaching out to stop you.

“Let her go,” the judge admonishes them, “You just beat her Alpha bloody in front of her pups; the least you can do is let her hold him as he dies.”

“We were only doing our job, Judge Singer,” one guard argues, reeling back the judge whips around to stare him down with yellow eyes aflame, teeth gnashing in agitation.

You fall to your knees beside Dean, gathering him up into your arms as you sob heavily. He groans in pain, his forest eyes sluggishly opening to look up at you, a slow moving smile curling up his blood-spattered lips.

“Alpha,” you whimper, leaning in to scent him. The strong aroma of copper nearly covers the heady scent of him, but it’s there just under the surface, and you take in a lungful. You feel like your chest is about to cave him, like your heart is about to stop beating and burst against your ribs.

“Ome…Omega,” Dean rasp, a violent blood-filled cough overcoming him. “M-My ‘mega,” he manages, using what strength he has left to reach up and cup your face.

Thomas drops down beside you, covering Dean’s shivering body in the wool blanket that a guard handed him. He stares at his father, choking back a sob as he leans down to kiss his cheek, sniffing at his skin and shoving his face into Dean’s neck as he cries angrily.

“T-Tom,” Dean whispers weakly, right up against the cusp of death.

“I’m here, dad,” Thomas says as he drags his head up to look into Dean’s darkening eyes. “I’m right here.”

“Take care—” Dean stops to cough, throat bobbing as he swallows back blood. “Take care o-of your mama,” he says, “An’ y-your brothers…si-sister.”

“I will,” Thomas promises through his tears.

Dean looks back up at you, his breathing becoming a struggle. “L-Love y—”

“I know,” you whisper, shooshing him when he tries to say the words. “I love you, my Alpha,” you tell him, smoothing back his rain-socked hair before pressing a soft kiss to his slack lips. “It’s okay,” you tell him through a sob, “You go. Just let go, baby. Me and Thomas are right here, we’ve got you now.”

His nod is nearly nothing, his eyes soon going unfocused as his chest rises with his last breath, a garbled noise leaving him as he exhales for the last time. And you scream. Scream the loudest you ever have before as you clutch and pull him to your chest desperately, uncaring of the blood that soaks through your dress. Thomas wraps himself around you, giving you what warmth he can as the cold rain continues to fall like sovereign relief.

The crowd has fallen silent. It’s all fun and games when a man is getting beaten for the public’s entertainment—but there’s nothing funny about a widowed Omega and her fatherless children who were forced to watch their head Alpha die such a vicious death.

No matter his crimes.

 

The rain soon settles to a light drizzle, giving you and your griefstricken family a small window of time.

“Mama,” Thomas says in a soft voice as he crouches down beside where you sit at the kitchen table, where your lifeless Alpha lays upon the surface. “It’s time.”

“I just…I need another mintue,” you whisper, unmoving in your seat and not taking your eyes off Dean’s handsome face, his features peaceful in death and frozen in time.

“Okay,” Thomas doesn’t argue. He knows it’s a fight he’ll never win. “We’ll wait,” he says as he leans forward to place a kiss on your temple, then moving to press his forehead against it, “We’ll wait as long as we have to.”

When Thomas leaves again, you gather enough strength to pull yourself up to your feet. Fresh tears pool in your eyes as you run a hand down Dean’s stone face, shrouded in shadows and an orangey glow from the flickering candles that fill the room. With delicate fingertips, you trace over the length of his nose, the raise of his lips, across the swell of his cheekbone, mapping the feel of them and tucking them into your memory. You’d spent the last few hours cleaning away the blood and dirt that covered his abused flesh, mending his abundance of wounds, and making him anew for when you and your children would say your final goodbyes to the center of your world.

“Make a place for me, Alpha,” you tell him through the sob that racks you, “Where ever you are, make a place for me and I’ll meet you there when my day comes.”

The paneled floors creeks under someone’s weight, but you don’t bother to turn. You can smell him, his Alpha scent mixed with pain, with guilt and agony.

“What do you want?” You question in a weak voice.

“I just,” he stops to clear his throat. “I came to give my condolences, to say my goodbyes.”

“Your condolences,” you scoff, turning to face the Alpha who looms in the doorway, not daring to come too close. “I don’t _want_ them,” you snarl, “I don’t want anything from _you_.”

“Please,” he tries to say, voice meek.

“ _No_ , Sam,” you growl.

“Let me help,” he begs, “I can give you some of the money I have stashed away, to help you and the kids. I know you’ll need help in the coming days, just…please—let me help.”

“I don’t want your help,” you say through tears. “Haven’t you done enough already?” There’s an edge to your tone. “You should’ve _helped him_ ,” you point to Dean’s unmoving body, “You and I both know he was innocent.”

Sam visibly gulps, eyes shining with tears and laden thickly with guilt.

“But he was just looking out for his little brother, though. Wasn’t he, _Sam_?” You sneer, overcome with grief and anger, with resentment that’s nearly suffocating. “If my boys knew it was _you_ who should’ve been up on that stage,” you stop to breathe, lungs burning. “They would rip you apart—and I’d _let them._ That, Sam. _That_ would be the sweetest revenge; to die at the hands of your nephews. The ones who you let become fatherless right before their eyes.”

Sam’s face has fallen ashen, grey and dark with remorse. He tries for a feeble apology, but lets the words die so bitterly on his tongue, turning his stomach sickly when he swallows them down.

“My Alpha died selfless,” you sob, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, “You’ll die a _coward_ when your time comes.”

You turn away from him, combing your fingers through Dean’s hair. “Take your condolences and get the hell out,” you demand, voice trembling.

“Okay,” Sam whispers, his feet hesitating to move. “You know where to find me if you ever need anything.”

Silence bleeds back in. With your breath held, you lean in to press a kiss to Dean’s cold, blue-tinged lips, whispering _I love you_ as Thomas comes back in.

“Mama,” he says.

“I’m ready,” you sniff back tears. “Bring me the sheet and rope,” you request.

“We can do that, mama,” Sebastian says as he moves in to stand at Thomas’ side, his eyes growing wet when he sees you standing vigilant at his father’s side.

“Bring it to me _now_ ,” you demand, “I want to do it myself. Please.”

“Let us help, then,” Thomas says as he places the folded sheet next to Dean’s head.

You nod, watching as your eldest sons round the table, a boy at each end, their hands landing softly on their father, lips bitten back in emotion. Thomas unfolds the sheet, the pristine white billowing up into the air before it falls gracefully over Dean’s body. With delicate hands, the three of you prepare Dean, securing the sheet around him with long lengths of silky rope.

Thomas and Sebastian carry their father outside in the cool night, towards the prye they’d spent most of the afternoon building. They set him upon it, tears streaming down their faces. Thomas, now the head Alpha of the family, lights the wood of pyre, stepping back as the flames slowly build. He stands at your side, arm thrown around your shoulders as he watches his hero burn.

“We’ll make this right, mama,” he promises, “Seb and me will avenge his death. I’ll start with that fucking Beta guard who disrespected you.”

“No,” you shake your head in decline. “You won’t,” you cry, turning your head to look up at him, “You and Sebastian are all I have left. I need you here to help me care for your brother and sister. Avenging this will only lead to your deaths.”

“Mama,” Thomas whispers.

“No,” you smile sadly, “Just let this go, Thomas. For me.”

He nods with reluctance, swallowing back the protest that he wanted to voice. “At least let me beat the shit outta that Beta,” he gives a weak laugh, “Dad would’ve ripped that asshole’s heart out for calling you what he did.”

You hum, looking forward at the pyre that’s now entirely engulfed in fire. Stomach in your gut, you say, “I know. He was always so fiercely protective.”

“And strong-headed,” Sebastian whispers from your other side, his hand reaching over to grab yours tightly, eyes shining in the light of the fire.

“Loyal,” Thomas adds, arm tightening around your shoulders, “Dad was loyal.”

You want to comment, want to tell the boys just how loyal their father was. You don’t, though, instead deciding on, “Your father was _noble_.”

Upon the pyre, Dean Winchester, your Alpha and partner, burned an innocent man—who’s only fault was loving his family so much, that he’d give away his own life to keep them safe.

Some would say that wasn’t a fault at all.


End file.
